In Bondage
by saiyuri-dahlia
Summary: Volga could accept his absolute defeat without regrets, if he had been defeated, that is. Taken by Zelda's forces, he awaits his fate, bound and stripped of all pride and power. As he waits, he is visited by none other than the boy hailed a hero. And Volga knows well that power is very appealing. Attractive even. Volga/Link, yaoi


Story Title: In Bondage

Disclaimer: Hyrule Warriors and its characters belong to their respective owners, not me.

Author's Notes: I entirely blame Tumblr for making me like Volga/Link. Writing this did break me out of some massive writer's block I've been stuck in of lately, so I suppose I must also be grateful to it as well.

I don't usually write lemons—in fact they embarrass me terribly (this one being greatly no exception) but I suppose writing them makes good practice. I'm still rather surprised I posted this after I completed it. It's the most intense lemon I've ever written… The title was meant to refer to Volga's capture, not to any actual use of bondage, but as I wrote I realized there was more bondage imagery than I had ever intended. It's not my cup of tea but I'm sure there are others who enjoy such a brew. As fanfiction has taught me, there is a cup of tea for anyone and everyone so let's drink up.

I apologize in advance if Volga (or HW Link for that matter) are out of character. I wrote this spur of the moment and didn't analyze their characters as I usually would. I'm more accustomed to writing from the eyes of an awkward, nerdy, sweet-tempered Oocca scholar than a dragon knight. Also despite putting this under the romance category because I really didn't know where to place it, I would not describe Volga and Link's relationship as one based on love. It's another word that starts with L.

As always, I thank any and all readers for reading.

-o-

Story Title: In Bondage

-o-

Stripped of all that which mattered—his armor, his blade, his pride, Volga sat on his knees in a ragged shift of a war tent patched together from rags from previous battles, the original Hyrulean blue and whites still present but faded from sand, soot, and stained with blood. How much of the blood was human or from his kin, Volga did not know but he vowed to spill more of it, in revenge for his fallen and for this…indignity.

He was bound in Goron-forged chains, enhanced with Zora water magic boosted by the royal whelp's enchantments. They had stolen his armor, gleefully acquired his helmet and pike for their own wares, and the woman general and the impudent Twili imp had sealed and severed his connection to his birthright. His blood boiled as he snarled and scowled in memory of the Sheikah's smirk.

"You are no longer a dragon," she had said, foolishly too arrogant for her own good. "You're merely a man now, Volga."

The insult coiled and charged through his fiery veins. Volga launched himself forward and snapped at the air but, as they had before her, his chains held and one layer of magic crisscrossed vines of surging water around him, constricting him, as another layer spawned undulating liquid whips from the awakened magic circle cast on the now mud floor that lashed his bare body and doused his embers out. Volga's roars of rage cracked and gave way to pain as he fell back onto his knees and slumped forward, water dripping down his nose and hair as he stared down into the thick, sludgy mud quagmire around him.

They had not taken him honorably. There had been no declaration of challenge and Volga had not yielded to his defeat. They had ambushed him in a calculated strike and though he had fought back and he had fought back well, the royal whelp's forces had taken him alive. Those smug grins and whooping cheers of victory from the princess's inner circle, the triumphant roar of their fodder troops as they returned with him, they did not even treat him like a prisoner of war. They treated him like a _war prize_.

_The humiliation_, Volga growled, bearing his teeth, and winced with every snagged breath. He remained slumped over, catching his breath, as he swiftly and viciously cast his plan for his inevitable and absolute scorching of the humans' base. As he proposed whether or not to kill the haughty Sheikah for her insolence first, he heard the tent flap rustle. Volga raised his head slightly, shot his glare upward, and scowled. Honestly, it was not a visitor he had expected at any hour, much less in the dark of night. At least, he had not expected this one to come alone. Not without the royal whelp standing beside him to guard.

"So Her Majesty sends the boy to do what? Interrogate me? Torture me?" he said, bitterly.

Link said nothing and offered no explanation or insight for his being there. He stood just beyond the tent's entrance with a lit and well-oiled lantern flickering at his side and stared at him. The sight of a flame was both a familiar comfort to the dragon knight and an ill-timed spit in the face.

"I am no street fair spectacle, boy," Volga said, a growl rising in his voice, as he bared his teeth indignantly. "If you have no business or command to enforce, leave me be."

He did not leave. He stood still for a second or two more and then he slowly stepped to the side, his eyes never actually leaving Volga but moved around him. He was watching him or maybe just nosily gawked. Perhaps it was both.

Volga followed his gaze, turning his head in accordance like a young bomb flower tracking the sun's path. Link's eyes traced down his arm and settled on his bonds—a pair of shackles and a measure of chain hammered deep into a Goron contraption into the bedrock. His eyes floated to Volga's.

"See how many measures had to be taken?" Volga said, putting on a prideful smirk. "Your princess left nothing to chance. A mere cage would never suffice me."

Volga's bravado left no impression on Link. In fact, he had shown no clear feeling from the moment he entered the tent. His face remained dull and boyish, revealing nothing of his thoughts or the battles he had faced, including the many with Volga himself.

To his bemusement and disbelief, Link stepped toward him. He stood arms-length away from him, that is if his hands weren't cuffed behind his back. His breaths quickening with rage and expectation, Volga watched and waited. Link had come here for a reason and he was no doubt preparing to enact that reason. Feeble and futile as it would be, Volga gave a warning growl, promising to strike back if he should be struck.

Link did raise his hand and he placed it not on his weapon, for he had none, but on Volga's cheek. Stunned, he flinched and drew away from his touch but still Link reached for him and cupped his cheek, brushing his thumb through the char and ash Volga blackened his eyes with to cut through glare.

Volga's mind raced as he struggled to understand. Link was saying nothing and his eyes told him nothing. By soot and stone, what was the meaning of this? Was this a gesture of compassion? Volga searched his eyes once more. Beyond the stoicism, there was compassion. Gazing into Link's blue and kind and brave eyes, an odd, unexplainable sentiment rose in the dragon knight. It was not so much a memory, as he knew it to not be true, than an impression. That in another time, a land very similar but different than they knew, or a life once lived, they were once familiar with one another.

_Ridiculous nonsense!_ he spat back, twisting his head sharply out of and away from Link's gentle touch. "You have me, yes. I am bound, and my fire is doused," Volga said, finally gaining hold over and slowing his breath. "But by no means does that mean a dragon cannot bite!"

He lunged at his hand and no sooner did he lunge at him, the slithering water vines gurgled like a coursing deluge as they ensnared his body and coiled around his neck. The vines tightened and wrenched him down, opening the way for the water whips to lash his back. Wiggling futilely in the mud away from the whips as best he could and no different than a pig avoiding capture for the slaughter, Volga fought through the flagellation, holding back his screams until he could do so no longer but by then the vines strangling his throat were muffling his voice.

When his punishment was over, Volga lay crumpled over on his side in the drenched, gooey mud. His throat was raw and crushed, he discovered, as he swallowed his breath and grit his teeth. _Perhaps the fish woman should die first for crafting these infernal charms,_ Volga considered, slowly attempting to rise back up to sitting. He hissed in pain as a bolt raced a circuit through his sides and all across his back. It would take more than the strength of his core to help him rise.

With his arms chained behind him, Volga dug his feet into the mud, the earth burying under his toenails. He dug and pushed and clawed the ground but his feet simply slid and sloshed and splashed about the mud, smearing it over his feet, legs, across his back and down his sides. He yelled in frustration. He was a chained animal. No, he was something worse. He was a chained _man_.

He was not defeated, nor was he ready to give up, and yet his tired body slid bit by bit toward the mud. _My body betrays me and forces me to lay at my enemy's feet…the dishonor, the indignity…_

Wrapping his arms around his upper torso, Link lifted a bewildered Volga up with a measure of strain. Nonetheless, it was obvious to both that he was determined to help, for reasons Volga understood not.

However, Link's boots fared no better than Volga's bare feet in the mud and with little traction and the dragon knight's heft, Link's feet streaked right through the wet earth. He dropped straight into the mud, yanking Volga down with him. Volga growled at the rough jostling as Link scrambled to his knees and hastened to help again. It took both men's strength, the steadiness of Link's arms, and perhaps some genuine luck, but in time Volga sat upright once more.

Sitting on his knees in the mud with Volga, Link grinned with success and relief as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing a line of mud across his temple.

"What are you smiling for?" Volga sneered back, his glare sharp and seething through Link's quiet cheer. "You are a fool to believe this mercy shall earn you any from me in battle. You are lucky I am bound. Were I free, I would have exploited your weakness and crushed your soft heart."

His shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, Link shook his head no.

"I would not?" Volga raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He sniffed haughtily. "Such confidence…it borders stupidity."

And still his smile beamed as Link canted his eyes and stared off to the side into the earth. He seemed far too amused for his safety.

"Smile and laugh, boy," Volga scowled. "Your end is nigh. My mistress shall not overlook my disappearance. She will ravage your keeps in search of me and once I am freed, I will scorch you and the land you fight for. You will not cheat me out of my victory. All your lives flicker like candlelight and will be as effortlessly extinguished."

Link was unfazed. He started back at Volga with fire in his eyes and a smirk in his smile. He seemed to be looking forward to the challenge. Volga found himself pleased.

"War pulses through your veins. Claim you fight for your kingdom if you want but you fight for yourself. Your soldiers, they fight for glory, they fight for their lives, but they cower and kowtow to power. You raced toward it. You faced me." Volga flashed a tiny, smug smile. "I will commend you there."

He had watched the fodder soldiers cry out in terror and scurry like rats at his mere presence on the battlefield. Volga had been disappointed to view such cowardice. His mistress had made him the general of her army, not the lead butcher at the slaughterhouse. Nonetheless, he would obey her commands, bored and displeased as he would be.

And then a boy, not yet a true knight, had stood grounded, at the ready in the threshold of the open gate doors, sword and shield raised, eyes sharp and blue and lit with rage. A boy with spark and strength and power bestowed by his gods yet realized.

Link simply listened, never losing an inch of his smirk-smile. Volga cared not if he agreed with him—it mattered not if he did—though his passive arrogance pressed on his nerves.

"You seek power. For yourself, for your kingdom. You seek to test yourself and you rise to every challenge. You bear the blessing of your gods but rely on your own strength. You know not if you will win but you still strive to grow stronger."

Volga shouted in shock and leaned back as Link suddenly reached his hand toward his cheek. He sat dumbfounded and, so not to awaken the fish woman's magic, resisted the urge to snap at his fingers. Link reached a little more forward and his fingertips brushed along Volga's jawline, prickling sparks arcing through his touch until his cheek slid comfortably into and rested in Link's hand.

"What is this supposed to mean? That there is a bond between us?" Volga's thoughts raced in confused panic. He searched Link's calm, steady stare for meaning. He found it sooner than he thought he would. "…I see. A warrior's heart knows the fires of battle and the thrill of a worthy adversary. It is rare to find its twin."

If Link's smile meant anything, it was that he had deciphered him well.

"I admire power. I seek it. I challenge my own. Much as I am drawn to power, I know when to acknowledge my better," Volga said slowly in a breathy voice, not entirely due to Link gliding his fingertips down his neck. He felt dazed. Like waking from a mystery seed ale stupor and coming into sudden absolute clarity. He wondered if this was how the humans felt at the first sight of sunlight and fresh air after escaping Eldin Caves.

"You know the allure of power well, boy. You know its comfort, its reliable ease of use, and the pleasure it arises." His eyelids hooded, Volga tipped his head up and took a slow, deep breath. The smell of wet earth clashing with the dry desert wind wafting in from outside mixed with char and smoke and sweat. "My mis—the witch wields it well. But you, you have something greater than her power. A weapon."

He needed not to have the weapon in hand for Volga to sense its power. It radiated its strength. It was a beacon of power, especially to those who desired its legendary might. Volga was certainly not immune to its charms.

"I admit…" Volga murmured, leaning forward, as a distracted Link gently rubbed the tender bruises around his neck, just some of many marks the water whips left on his battle-worn body. "…I am also drawn to this power."

Volga pressed his lips on Link's hard and quick. Link drew back and gasped in surprise, his eyes wide. Not caring, Volga snatched his lips in his once more. They were soft and pliant, a sharp contrast to his own thin, rough lips. He kissed him over and over, the air crackling with every separation.

Perhaps it was Volga's ferocity throwing him, but Link was slow to respond. It could have well been his first kiss for all the dragon knight knew. It certainly was not his. Bit by bit, with a measure of uncertainty, Link pushed his lips out to meet Volga's. Despite his initial hesitation, he was soon fighting Volga's ferocity with his own.

Volga grinned wickedly as a low chuckle rumbled in his throat. Maybe it was not his first time or he was a quick study, either way they were far more equally matched. Volga strove to correct that.

He nipped Link's bottom lip and parted his lips, sliding the tip of his tongue up the plump flesh and tasting his tongue. Link was briefly tossed off-guard by the new sensation of warm, wet muscle and leaned away. Volga pursued, his chains rattling behind him. Damnable, useless things, they were. Were his hands free, he would have simply yanked the boy back to him.

"Do you cower from me, boy?" he asked, punctuating his words with another darkly satisfied smile. That seemed to rile Link up and snapped him out of his shock.

Link returned, mashing his lips to Volga's once more, a jolt of not-entirely-unpleasant pain stinging through their mouths. At least, Volga did not find it unpleasant at all and Link did not twinge. As tongue glided across tongue, he realized too late the swell of water rising around them. Before they could react, they were consumed in a dome of water, the last of their air floating from their parted lips.

This was different, a third layer of magic. This was not a punishment, nor did Volga believe it was meant to be. Water cut off his breath, filled his throat, and sluiced into his lungs and soaked his flame reservoir. With that, so went his power to breathe fire, not that the magical bindings placed on him would have allowed him to or would it have saved him and Link from their watery prison. It was simply further insult.

A blurry white-gold light suddenly flared and blinded Volga. He sensed power in the light, divine power. The magic seal broke with a loud pop and so the dome of water collapsed around them, cascaded over Volga and Link, and flooded the already waterlogged earth. Somehow, the lantern Link placed on the ground had remained out of the water's reach. Link and Volga both gasped for air, with Volga coughing up a splash of water that had managed to slip down his throat.

It was abundantly clear now to Volga—the fish woman would die first.

Feeling the warmth and slide of his hand over his shoulder, Volga peered up and found Link sitting up on his knees straddled between Volga's thighs. Whether he knew so or not, coming as close as he was would no longer trigger the water's wrath. Volga found that prospect pleasing.

Link's soaked tunic clung to Volga's wet chest as he laid himself over him and leaned in to resume their oral battle. Gently raking his nails across his skin, he slid his hands up his shoulders and briefly down his back, dipping into Volga's retracted shoulder blades before snaking back upward and slipping his hands into his drenched, tousled hair.

Volga's throat rumbled with a low growl as he nuzzled Link's neck, stopping only to flick the tip of his tongue along his jawline. His delighted groan turned to one of frustration as he reached the collar of Link's tunic and could do nothing to remove it himself. His infernal bonds were insufferable nuisances! Not only did they put a limit on his reach, they effectively hindered his range and physical prowess. Not that his mouth alone could not suffice, Link's tunic was still a sharp barrier to overcome alone.

And Volga's patience was short and thinning as Link kissed his tender neck while rubbing his fingertips over the dragon knight's stiffening nipples. Honestly, the thought to rip his tunic off, piece by piece even, with his teeth crossed Volga's mind first and more than once after that.

There was no need, however, as soon after Link peeled off his sopping, clinging tunic and undershirt, revealing his young, taut, muscular physique. Tiny scratches and few long scars marked him here and there, a few the dragon knight himself had no doubt inflicted. The witch's conquest had certainly done well to carve out and burn away a lot of what little milk fat had persisted but he was still nowhere near as chiseled and hardened as the dragon knight, though he had decades upon decades of body-sculpting war and spars over the fledgling trainee, now awakened hero. Given time and battle, who knows what would become of him…

Rising up, mud smeared and sticking all down the front of his legs, Link brought one of his nipples to Volga's mouth. He held the semi-firm nub between his lips and coaxed it outward with his tongue, layering his steady sucking with varying licks. Link gave a sharp, quick moan. Volga felt the quickened beat of his heart and tasted the salt of his flesh. As one nipple stood plump and erect, Volga worked on making its twin as Link stroked the tip of his own cock in slow, tentative circles.

Again, Volga cursed his bonds. It should be his hands, not Link's own, swelling his cock. But no, his were locked behind him as Link made do for himself. Volga soon realized there was another hindrance rapidly approaching. While Link's own hands could stoke his need, Volga could not be as easily tended to. A simple massage from either the hand or mouth would not suffice either.

Volga slowly hissed as Link gently raked his nails up the underside of his erection. His cock twitched at the mildly painful but nonetheless satisfying attention. Volga's jaw ached from clenching his teeth so much. He kept darting his eyes around Link's body and found new places he wanted to bite. He had gotten to nip on his neck and nipples but he had forgotten the meat of his shoulder and his collarbone and there was still his hips, inner thighs, abdomen, the soft bend in his forearms, shoulder blades, and buttocks he had yet to sink his teeth into.

And without his freedom, Volga would have to ask, practically beg Link to let him bite him. Much as he doubted Link would protest at this point, Volga did not beg. He claimed what he wanted and let the weak beg beneath him to stop.

Volga grunted as a twitch stronger than the last arced through his cock as Link sucked heavily right on the tip after wetting the sides with a series of long, broad licks. Ultimately, his oral attentions would not be enough but the dragon knight had to admit it was a respectable try.

He glared on in confusion as Link took hold of Volga's cock and rose up onto his knees. He quickly positioned himself above his erection and the dragon knight soon felt himself pressing against Link's entrance. He knew that the boy had no idea what he was doing, as an idiot would, or if nothing else, was far too brash to believe he could take Volga dry and unprepared. But rather than order him to stop, Volga decided to let his own needs be met. If the boy wished to impale himself on Volga's pike, so be it.

Volga's tip slipped past Link's entrance as Link lowered himself a half-inch by half-inch at a time. His quivering mouth stretched into a pinched frown as the pain expanded but not his inner walls. Link paused and took a slow breath. Volga watched in the flickering lantern light the sweat bead on his brow, the muscles in his face tighten, as he considered and reconsidered whether or not and how he could make this work. The mud beneath them was not helping—the mud forced him down farther and farther, even if it was just by a single centimeter, before he was ready and made him clench his lower body in an effort just to try and remain still.

If he had the use of his hands, they would not be locked in an equally uncomfortable delay. Brusquely snorting, Volga scowled in disappointment. "Give up, boy. You aren't ready."

Link glared back at him and growled defiantly. Spurred on, Link tried raising and lowering himself in a few slow, cautious glides. He bared his teeth in obvious discomfort but did not stop. A few breath-lengths later, he quickened his pace. With more time came more speed and deeper thrusts.

Volga did not show it but he was pleased by the boy's fire and determination—it was one of his more appealing and irritating qualities. The glorious tightness and warmth sheathing and sliding over his cock was another source of happiness. Never were his shackles more infuriating than now. He wanted to grab Link by the hips and yank him down over him. He wanted to hold him still and jam into him. He wanted to pull him into the mud and top him. But he could do none of that. Damn his shackles.

He bucked his hips into him, learning Link's timing quick and matching him. Link practically bounced in his lap, the mud squelching and sloshing around them, muddy water splashing on and all around them. Volga tried to press his feet into the mud and lift his hips higher but to no real surprise, that was an impossible physical feat.

His face twisted in violent desire, Volga snarled and thrust harder. Link rocked his hips in return and breathed a long, airy growl. Anger and attraction clashed with pride and competition as they fought to make the other come first. The final victor was inconclusive.

Head resting on Volga's air-hungry chest with his hands sunk in the mud, Link lay catching his breath as well. The dragon knight gazed down at the young hero. For a human, the boy had a dragon knight's heart. No creature, and certainly no human, had ever matched Volga's fire, crossed blades and lived, and met his every challenge and exceeded his expectations with such ferocious spirit. His warrior's heart had indeed found its twin.

"I yield to a higher power than my own," Volga said, still a bit out of breath.

Link stirred and raised his head. He peered up at him, his eyes filled with boyish innocence and wonder. He grinned back at Volga, for reasons he did not understand and it annoyed him. Actually, Link was a particularly annoying human. But his weaknesses were far fewer and more tolerable than most pathetic, sniveling humans. He even had his virtues.

After wrapping himself in a spare cloth, his clothes being too wet and clingy to fight with putting on, Link left and returned wearing old pants and carrying a pile of old rags and a large stone basin, wide enough to hold the Goron comfortably, with his silver gauntlets. He set the basin down on the edge of the magic circle. Volga heard what he presumed was water splashing about inside the stone. Setting the rag pile on the basin's rim, Link took one rag and soaked it in what was indeed water and wrung it out. Walking into the mud, Link kneeled down beside Volga and began washing off the mud streaked down his legs.

This show of…mercy, he supposed it was knotted uncomfortably in the dragon knight's stomach. The discomfort enraged him. He was not some poor, pathetic human whelp in need of cleaning. He was a dragon knight accustomed to sleeping in the bowels of the earth. A little wet mud here and there meant nothing.

At the same time, there was another side to the knotting in his stomach, a feeling of…gratitude. After all, this was the first show of dignity any human had offered him since his capture. This feeling of gratitude enraged him the most. Volga did not like or wanted to be grateful to anyone. He did not wish to incur debts he would be honor-bound to repay.

"Are you blind, boy, to what I am sitting in?" Volga asked testily. To stab his point through the heart, he slapped his mostly-cleaned leg right back in the mud, splattering Link with murky water and dirtying his leg.

Link did not get angry with the dragon knight for splashing him or even for ruining his hard work faster than a powered-up bomb cleared a keep. He simply stood up, wet and wrung out another old rag, kneeled beside Volga again, and diligently cleaned the mud all over again.

Watching him work and seeing him rub down the top of his leg, wash his feet, and even attempt to pick the mud out from under his toenails while never losing his gentle, patient smile, Volga snorted obstinately and raised his leg out of the mud.

-o-

Minutes after the break of dawn, the woman general and Goron returned to his prison tent with a small band of fodder soldiers. After cleaning him up, which took very little time, and covering him in black pants and a dark gray yukata, the Goron released the linchpin to his bonds inside the metal contraption and took hold of the length of chain. They ordered him to walk and Volga did so.

They brought him before the royal whelp with many of her allies standing in attendance and guard, no doubt. Link was there, not beside the princess, but off to the side. He was still in what appeared to be his nightclothes.

Volga stood kneeled and idly listened as the princess listed his many, many crimes to her kingdom, the sum of which would demand execution several times over. She spoke of her council with her allies and how they debated at length at what would be the proper sentencing for his crimes. More than a few spoke for his execution. Lifetime imprisonment was also suggested. And a third fate was offered. That he would be absolved of all crimes against Hyrule and humanity in general and be allowed to return to his volcanic seclusion if he swore his allegiance to Hyrule and fought for them against Cia and her forces.

For all her disgrace and how much he despised her for putting him under her control with her putrid dark magic, Volga did not like betraying her, as the detestable ring ghoul would and had done several times already and no doubt would again. Still she had done him no favors and earned none from him and she was no longer the absolute power encompassing the battlefield.

"I will fight with you," Volga vowed. "I yield to a higher power than my own."

The royal whelp smiled, ignorant to his intended meaning. She was not the higher power he referred to. It was by his grace that he had agreed to align with her.

Once his shackles were removed (but not the seals on his birthright) and he was dismissed, Volga headed straight to the armory to reclaim his possessions. The weak, quivering guards, no doubt terrified to see him walking free, crossed their pikes before him and denied him access. Volga demanded they step aside or be thrown. The sputtering fools apologized but refused to move and allow him inside by orders of General Impa herself.

"I care not for the Sheikah's petty orders," Volga's shouts shook the soldiers. "Step aside!"

"Stand down, Volga," Impa shouted, hand on her giant blade and battle-ready, as the dragon knight paused inches away from seizing both guards and chucking them toward the sun, "or I will cut you down where you stand."

"Would you now? Strike down an unarmed warrior with no armor or blade to which to defend or attack with?" He smirked. "Of course, you would. It is your kind's way of fighting. A Sheikah knows nothing of fighting honorably. They must rely on tricks, lies, and backstabbing to obtain the upper hand."

"Do not test me, dragon," Impa replied, her level stare and voice cold and sharp. "What issue do you have with my men?"

"For starters, everything, the disgusting maggots! You useless, weak, arrogant worms dare to believe you can pose a challenge to me. I have spent a lifetime cutting down weak-hearted humans vainly seeking the glory of slaying a dragon. Even after burying myself in fire and stone, you humans still sought me out and brought me into your wars. I see nothing in the eyes of your men, all but the boy," Volga said, his scowl deepening with contempt as he spoke. "As for these insects, they are denying me my possessions. If I am to fight, I will require them."

"They will be returned to you when you are required, as will the seals be lifted," Impa explained brusquely. "Until then, you will remain at base. Is that understood, dragon knight?"

Volga gasped in shock and then immediately roared in rage. "How dare you! I vowed to fight and I shall fight!"

"Yes, you vowed right after defecting from our enemy's inner circle. Forgive us if your welcome feast lacks the grandeur befitting a hero's homecoming."

Baring his teeth menacingly, Volga gave a low warning growl. "I swore my allegiance—"

"And I have sent good men home in boxes because of you. There be no more," Impa insisted. "Now fall in line and await orders with the rest of the soldiers."

With no blade or fire to which to cut or char the presumptuous, overbearing Sheikah and his rage at his limit, Volga bellowed ferociously and stormed off. The humans scurried and dove out of his path. If he could breathe fire once more, he would have set fire to the entire camp.

He searched for Link. He could tell the Sheikah to give him access to the armory or, failing that, speak to the royal whelp and have her force her to hand over his possessions. Volga was not about to remain at base and he would damn the Sheikah before he would!

He found Link in one of the many large tents designated as soldiers' quarters. At his entrance, smacking open the tent flap out of his way, all of the other soldiers but Link hurried out of the tent.

"They will not return to me my armor and spear! How am I to prepare for battle without those things?" Volga said.

Link appeared to be in the middle of changing into his green uniform. The tunic, along with the rest, laid folded atop his battered rucksack. Link, still in his underclothes, turned to Volga, raised a hand to his chest, and took a noticeable and drawn-out breath.

"Calm myself?" Volga replied, raising an eyebrow. "I have been calm! I have tolerated many insults and I will tolerate no more!"

The dragon knight paced back and forth with less patience and more fury than a hungry caged wolfos. "The humiliation… I pledged my allegiance to the downfall of the witch and your woman general seeks to deny me battle. Your forces seek victory but you need no one else but me on the field!"

He could have sworn he heard Link snicker.

Volga circled back around to face him and glared incredulously at him. "Do you mock me, boy?" he said, snatching Link by the front of his undershirt with one hand and lifting him high above him.

He let him flail above him as Link, gasping and sputtering, pulled at his fist in shock. He then brought him down, placed Link's hands on his shoulders and held him up by the top of his thighs as if he was carrying him as Link's legs hung loosely around Volga's waist. He bent his knees slightly and pushed his pelvis outward, grinding their groins together.

Link was very much surprised and confused as Volga leaned in, smirking darkly, and murmured, "You know not what I can do."

Volga immediately dove for Link's neck, raking his teeth across the side before sinking in. Link let out a high cry as the faint but familiar iron taste of blood dripped across his tongue.

Not an ember of his anger had been put out. He still desired to fight and roar and set the camp ablaze. Furious battle was typically how he settled such desires but, with the Sheikah's orders currently barring him from battle, violent passion would have to work.

He ripped off Link's undershirt, letting the shredded rag fall wherever, grabbed one of his nipples between his teeth, and pinched it. Link grit his teeth and gave a hard grunt in pain but for all his twinges, the solid bulge pushing on Volga's own spoke of another ache. One that Volga wished not to delay tending to any longer.

Casting off his pants and tearing Link's from him, Volga raised Link up and positioned himself. He paused at his entrance. Remembering his discomfort and hesitation, how he drove on through that discomfort and afterwards proved to him that the greatest warrior among the humans was also the most honorable among them, Volga had to repay his good favor.

"You will not survive me if you do not take care of yourself," the dragon knight said, supporting Link in his arms as he searched for a viable salve.

Finding mystery seed jelly in an open first-aid kit, Volga scooped a generous blob onto his fingers. He coated and massaged his inner walls, adding fingers and opening him bit by bit. He slid more readily inside him this time than he had the first.

Link clung to his shoulders, his nails digging into Volga's flesh, and clamped his legs around his waist as Volga clenched Link's buttocks and thrust into him. His back long and arched, Link tipped his head back and breathed an airy moan. Volga thrust harder and faster until they were slick with sweat and still it was not enough for him.

He staggered with Link to his bed and laid him down. Opening his legs a bit wider and pushing them toward his chest, Volga drove into him and roared with excitement. His fire stoked in his groin, the flames licking one another and building inside him. Several thrusts later, the heat rushed from him, scattered, and seed warmed seed.

Head turned to the side with the back of his hand covering his eyes, Link also lay spent beneath him. For a moment, he caught his breath before he turned to face him once more. Volga gazed back into his flushed, sweaty, tired face, watched as he flashed him an absurdly large and cheery grin, and in that smile, Volga knew.

That while he submitted to a higher power, the boy submitted to him.


End file.
